


Those Drifter Days

by Kirsten



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-15
Updated: 2007-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-13 15:09:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirsten/pseuds/Kirsten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean liked it best when Sam was all laid out and too quiet to bitch, worn out from work or sex or the hunt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Drifter Days

**Author's Note:**

> For the From Ashes ficathon, and so vaguely inspired by Bob Segar's "Against the Wind".

Dean liked it best when Sam was all laid out and too quiet to bitch, worn out from work or sex or the hunt. Few years back, one of the darker-but-not-too-dark times, Dean said, "Jesus, Sam. Destiny this, demon that, and oh my god, the plans. You should be fucked out all the time, 'cause I get tired of listening to you whine."

Sam just grinned, said, "Old news, babe," and slapped him on the ass.

"Shut up," Dean said. "And don't call me babe."

Sam still slept on his stomach with his legs spread wide, had done ever since he was a kid, and he couldn't fall asleep any other way, 'less they were camping out or something like it and they couldn't get real picky about repose. Sam asleep on his belly always made Dean grin, because he remembered being thirteen and crouched between Sam's legs, just so he could pour their dad's cold coffee all over Sam's butt. Sam woke up swinging his fists and yelling, caught Dean a good one right across the nose, and when dad came in from the hunt and found them beating each other up on the motel room floor Sam switched to tears and Dean took the blame, even though Dean was the one bleeding all over the carpet.

These days, Dean liked to get between Sam's legs for a whole other set of reasons. Like the day before last, when Dean got on his knees and rested low on his elbows and kissed behind Sam's balls and licked at Sam's hole until Sam came awake with a tremble and moan. Sweet way to start the day, Sam all broken and needy, begging with his mouth and every inch of his body for Dean's cock and come inside of him.

The way Dean figured it, plans like that never got old, and he was halfway settled on his knees when Sam rolled onto his back and mumbled, "Morning, Pamela."

"You fucker," said Dean. "Now I'm not allowed to put out."

"Not my fault you can't take a joke." Sam stretched and yawned and when he looked at Dean his grin was wide and bright. "I put up with your shit all the time, but you can't take it at all, can you, baby?"

"Hey, I can take anything your tiny mind can throw at the world. It's a skill, been honing it my entire life."

Sam chuckled and reached out, and Dean let Sam wrap him down into a hug, let Sam flip them over until he lay on his back looking up. Sam's cheeks were flushed pink, and his cock was hard and damp against Dean's hip.

"You're not the only guy got plans for this day." Sam lowered his face until their noses touched, and Dean breathed in Sam's sleep scent and warmth, and he let himself be kissed until his lungs were running short on air and he had to pull away.

"You know," Dean said, when his brain caught up with the world, "this would be so much hotter if you were minty fresh like me. Go brush your teeth, geekboy."

Sam grinned and kissed his nose. "Sure thing, Pamela," and he got up and disappeared into the bathroom.

"Son of a bitch," Dean groaned, because that was something he needed to figure out, Sam and his fucking old-ass Pamela Anderson joke. Different day, same old shit, and if it was kind of funny even after all this time, well, Dean would burn in hell before he mentioned it out loud. "You need to get some new material," Dean said when Sam came back to bed.

"Yeah, right." Sam slid back under the covers and draped an arm around Dean's shoulders. Sam was warm and lean, and Dean could smell Sam's leaking cock, and the sex they were about to have.

"So these plans of yours," Dean said. "You feel up to sharing?"

"That depends." Sam put his hand on Dean's chest, smoothed his palm up and over Dean's skin, rubbed at Dean's nipple and then came to rest at Dean's throat. "You're gonna put out, right?"

Dean didn't bother to speak, just rolled over and thrust against Sam's thigh, let his dick do the talking, and he smiled when Sam's breathing quickened. "Plans," Dean prompted, and Sam laughed and cupped Dean's head, pulled him close and kissed him, and then pushed him down, down, until Dean's eyes were level with Sam's cock. "Great minds think alike," Dean said, and he sucked Sam into his mouth, all the way down to the root.

-

Later that day, Dean was on his belly with his ass in the air, Sam inside him as far as he could get, and that was when the phone rang. The machine picked up, and Dean heard Bobby's voice and something about werewolves.

"What's he saying?" Dean shoved back a little, tried to sit up on his elbows and get some air, get away from Sam and all his grunting so he could hear what Bobby had to say.

"Dean, shut up," Sam said, and shoved back harder, pushed Dean's face back down into the pillow. "I'm trying to fuck you, here."

"Try harder," Dean said. "Did he say werewolves?"

Sam snarled and that was it, things got really wild. Bobby hung up and Dean heard the beep, and then he didn't hear anything much at all past the pleasure melting his brain. Sam hit just the right angle, and then kept hitting it, over and over until Dean shook and shuddered and came, and Sam wasn't far behind, hot and wet and deep inside, filled Dean up and made him moan.

Sam flopped out next to Dean on the bed, and Dean didn't move, just laid there with his legs open and trembling, Sam's come in his ass and on his thighs. Dean liked it this way pretty good, too, but it still didn't beat the sight of Sam spread and waiting just for him.

Bobby's call was damned good timing. Dean had been itching for some kind of victory hunt for weeks, wanted to clean up one of the messes that yellow-eyed bastard left behind. It was good, being with Sam in an apartment they owned, but Sam had his life and Dean had the hunt, and that was all there was to it.

"You're going to call Bobby," Sam said. "Right?"

Dean reached out and patted Sam's shoulder with a shaking hand, his arms weak in the shoulders from tension released. "Yeah. I'm in the mood to waste some evil."

"I can't go with you," Sam said, and he didn't sound cut up over it at all. "I have to work."

"It's cool," Dean said. "Me and Bobby'll get it."

Sam grinned and rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms and legs all around Dean's body. Dean felt warm and surrounded, and it didn't even really matter that he was fucked out and weak and still lying in the wet spot. Sam kissed his sweaty hair, and Dean tried to swat him away and failed.

"I like it best when you're like this," Sam said. "I could do anything to you right now, Dean. Anything at all."

"Sure," Dean said, and yawned. "Long as you don't bitch about it."


End file.
